Thief
by Zet Sway
Summary: The butterfly on my sleeve must have given away my identity.  "Ada," he spoke, his tone livid with anger.  He rolled me over onto my back to get a look at my face as though he needed to confirm my identity.  The gun was now pointed at my temple.  Oneshot.


Author's Note: This was initially intended to be a lemon. But despite my best efforts, it twisted and turned and became all of these emotional things that in the end simply prevented me from writing said lemon. I actually did write half of it, but it just didn't seem right. It's good stuff though. I may save the lemony portion for another fic. So here it is, cut short, the first fic I had officially started writing after YEARS of not writing a damn thing.

Resident Evil, Leon Kennedy and Ada Wong, Umbrella Corporation, Albert Wesker, and all other characters otherwise mentioned in this work of fiction are copyright to Capcom. I do not profit from the writing of this fiction.

I came to his home to steal from him, one night at two in the morning. My superiors had sent me on a short errand to steal information from him that was classified so tightly, they denied me any information and demanded I simply bring his entire hard disk to them. I picked the lock and slipped into his city apartment through the front door, the windows being out of the question due to his residence on the 14th floor. The place was about as plain as plain could get. His personal possessions were few and his decor was non-existent. I should have expected nothing less from a man such as Leon, who had plenty of more important things to worry about. I slipped down the hall and past the door of his bedroom, which was cracked open. I wanted to stop and take a look at him to see how he was faring after all these years, but I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind and made my way to the office.

Creeping into his office, I was surprised to see how well lived it was. The walls were adorned with certificates and awards from the police academy and the secret service. Pictures of family and friends were stuck into the calendar on his desk. The room was nearly silent. The laptop on his desk hummed softly and I slunk over to the desk to take what I had come for. What I didn't realize when I pushed the high-backed leather chair out of the way was that Leon himself was sleeping within it. His sleeping form stirred, clad in his black slacks, belt, boots, and a form-fitting black tank. While I appreciated the sight, I did not have time to admire it. He stirred again, not quite awake yet. Shit. I dashed out of the room and into the first open door I found, his bedroom. I slithered under the bed, heart pounding, and waited for him to (hopefully) fall back asleep. I heard him stand up, his boots scuffing along the floor as he dragged his half-awake body into the bathroom to do his business. No doubt he had no idea what had just happened, thank goodness.

But now I was caught between a rock and a hard place. Do I stay under his bed? What if he comes back in here to go to sleep? What if it takes him HOURS to fall asleep? Do I make a break for the coat closet in the living room? Who checks their closet at two in the morning? Maybe I could sneak back into the office right then, grab the computer, and get the hell out of there? I heard a flush. Better decide soon. I crawled out from under the bed as fast as I could, kicked off my shoes, and silently booked it for the living room.

Too late. The bathroom door opened just as I passed it. Leon's eyes widened in shock, but he quickly realized what had happened. He easily knocked me down and fell to one knee, grabbing both of my arms and pinning them behind my back. He drew my gun from where it was tucked into the back of my pants and held it to my head.

The butterfly on my sleeve must have given away my identity. "Ada," he spoke, his tone livid with anger. He rolled me over onto my back to get a look at my face as though he needed to confirm my identity. The gun was now pointed at my temple. I looked up at his face, illuminated from the side by the light shining in from his bathroom door. All traces of sleep gone from his features, he was furious. Never in my life had I ever seen this man, this gentleman, protector, guardian, so angry. It was only then that I realized the true toll all those years and close calls had taken on him. The scar on his cheek from Spain, the only evidence of the horrors he had endured, shone white against his skin. The rest of the hurt was in his eyes; his angry, furious eyes.

The gun fell to the floor as Leon gripped my neck, standing and picking me up to slam me against the wall. I gasped for air and clawed at his large hand clutched around my throat. "Bitch. Did he send you here to kill me? To finally finish me off because you were too cowardly to do it in Spain? Or did you just think you would pay me a visit? Check up on me? Snoop into my personal business?" he hissed. He stared at me coldly and loosened his grip on my throat enough to allow me to respond.

Explaining myself to him is something I would never do, no matter how much I would like to. I denied him a response wriggled free from his grasp, but he caught me by the wrist and held fast.

"Why didn't you do it, Ada? You could have. Hell, you _should_ have. If only you knew how much hurt you have caused me all these years." Leon's eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth as he gripped my jaw in one hand and pinned my wrist to the wall with the other.

Before I could muster any sort of response, he crashed into me, his lips overtaking mine in a fiery kiss. I stood still in shock as he ravaged my mouth like a hungry animal, unsure of how to react. A long time ago, after encountering him in Raccoon City, I had desired this man. Even in Spain I desired him. I even got the distinct impression that despite his mission- oriented mind, he desired me. However, those events happened long ago, and I had since pushed those notions to the back of my mind, abandoning what I could of them because I knew it could never happen. Or at least, I thought it never could. I did not get my hopes up, however, because a kiss is just a kiss, and as Leon began to pull me closer, my suspicion that his kiss was oriented by no more than an overwhelming torrent of emotions and flashbacks was confirmed.

No sense in rejecting the moment, though, I thought. If a kiss is indeed just a kiss, I might as well enjoy it. And so I kissed him back, allowing my tongue to interact with his, already plotting a course around my mouth. He softened his grip on my jaw and steadied himself by placing his hand on the back of my neck. I allowed him to do this, and placed my free hand on the small of his back, but as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my neck, I knew this about to be more than just a kiss. There were many reasons I had consigned myself to 'it'll never happen,' one of which was that it never SHOULD happen. It took all of my self- control, but I placed my hands on his chest and spoke.

"Leon, stop." was all I said to him. He stopped and drew back to look into my eyes. His aggression was not gone. He was still running on the adrenaline invoked by my intrusion, but the look in his eyes had softened. He was hiding his sadness from me as best he could but it showed through anyway.

"Why?" he said slowly. He begged me with his eyes to allow him to continue, his emotions, his desire, his sorrow, his anger, all battling for control in his mind.

"This cannot happen," I said firmly. "If you think what I did has hurt you all these years, you have no idea how much it will hurt you now if you continue. We can never be together, Leon. You know that and I know that."

"What is this then? You break into my house, for whatever reason, and I catch you and you expect me to just let you go? Ada, you haven't the slightest idea how long I have wanted to be with you, to have you. And finally, now, even if for a moment, I _do_ have you." Leon's exterior was beginning to crack, but his brilliant blue eyes remained hotly focused on mine. "Why did you come here?"

"To steal from you."

He let me go and turned his back to me. "Take what you want and leave."

Without another word he disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. I heard a soft thud which I can only imagine was him collapsing onto his bedspread.

I should have gone straight into his office, taken his computer, and left. Instead, I thought of how he must have just hit rock bottom. He had no idea what I was going to take from him, but if he was willing to just stop caring and allow me to take whatever I wanted from him, he must have felt lower than low. I stepped into his office and sat down in his crisp leather seat, looking around at his various commendations and recognitions. I thought about how well he was doing with his professional life, despite the fact that his personal life seemed to be suffering. He seemed to have no woman in his life, and the images of his family seemed so cold, so generic. It was as if he had nothing to live for but his mandatory service to the government. Eventually my thoughts turned to myself, and _my_ mandatory service.

I do not know how long I sat there, thinking of how I got here, how I came to be a spy, how I had made it to this part of life. I was highly successful and in control and yet my life choices had put me in this place, working for the 'bad guy,' as it were. Suddenly this whole thing felt wrong. I tried to shake this feeling, as I had done many times before. What was I doing here? I had been turned against this man I cared for since the very beginning. I stood slowly, and made my way over to his bedroom.

Pressing my ear against the door, I listened quietly for the sound of his rhythmic breathing. Slowly, I slid the door open, thankful that it did not squeal. There he was, passed out on his stomach, his lower half covered by the bedcovers and his bare torso exposed. His clothes lay in a pile beside his bed on his otherwise spotless white carpet. As I crept closer to him, I noticed there was ink on his back. Right in the center of Leon's back were the clearly visible words "In Memoriam," and beneath that, "29 September 1998." I lifted an eyebrow in interest. It seemed he carried the weight of the Raccoon City disaster almost literally on his shoulders. I wondered who went with him to get that tattoo, if anyone.

Sitting down softly on the bed beside him, I took a moment to gaze at his features. His face was the very image of unrest, despite the fact that I could tell he was sleeping heavily. He twitched occasionally in his fitful sleep, his eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids. I was curious if he had nightmares, if he suffered through them in silence, or if he did everything he could to insure a dreamless sleep. Perhaps he had a therapist that he saw, no doubt the government made him see one at some point in time. These were questions I would never get to ask. I reached out and brushed a few strands of his sand-colored hair out of his face. He hummed and leaned into my hand, and I allowed my fingers to trace his jawline, cradling his chin as my thumb brushed across his lips.

His skin, soft and touchable, brought down the last barrier of my defenses. In this vulnerable moment, I hung my head and cried. It was shameful, a woman like me crying over one man, regretting in that one moment every decision I had ever made regarding my career. Where would I have ended up if I had not made those choices? Would I be a spy for the US government, as opposed to Umbrella? Maybe just a secretary? Maybe I would have met Leon in another time, another place, and wooed him with my charms. We could have fallen in love, fought together, laughed together, and made love together. Perhaps we could have even had children. But then again, he may not have made it through Raccoon City without my help. I cradled his head and wept, planting a kiss first on his forehead, and then, softly, on his mouth, wishing I had let him continue to kiss me before.

It took all of my resolve to finally stand and leave, not knowing when I would see him again. I deliberately went against my orders, leaving the information I was sent to obtain behind selfishly. I silently gathered my shoes from beneath his bed, where I had kicked them off in effort to run undetected across his room, and my gun from the floor in the hallway and left his apartment without a word. However, as I left, I risked one last glance at him, still sleeping deeply, albeit fitfully, on his stomach. A glimmer of hope sparked in my mind that one day, Leon and I would meet again. Not as adversaries, not as agent versus spy, but as a man and a woman. Simple as that.

Thank you for reading~


End file.
